


Shards

by Kmrjo



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: A little one-sided fancying..., Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpse, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 04:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14584587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kmrjo/pseuds/Kmrjo
Summary: S05 E04 Colours:  Extended, non-canon scene at the end of the chase.





	Shards

The sharp report echoed over the rugged green field as Morse ran for his life. He didn’t feel the bullet that grazed his skull so much as experienced it, like being grabbed mid-stride and angrily slammed into the rough patch of grass in front of him. Morse rolled to a stop, stunned by the impact. He slowly raised his head aware enough to be worried about… something. His mind slogged through a thick treacle as he caught sight of the approaching man and the rifle he held. That seemed important somehow.

~*~

The insane Nazi-loving Professor Laidlaw marched toward the prone policeman savoring the imminent kill shot. He thought of his heroes in the Third Reich. They must have felt like this as they exterminated the vermin infesting their land. He pulled the rifle bolt and ejected the spent shell then slammed the bolt home in preparation.

He smiled.

He finally felt alive, living in the moment and not just spouting rote lessons of the glorious battles of the past to a bunch of dullards. He would make his own history now and it had all started with seeing Jean again and getting to bayonet that betraying bitch’s heart. Killing the hippie photographer had just been a sweet bonus. This would be the beginning, he thought, the start of a long-needed cleansing. Marcus X would be next and then….

_*Clink*_

The metallic sound of a land mine engaging. It was well known to those educated in military ordnance but in the field, it was not a lesson learned twice. The Professor knew only for a split second before the release of the compact explosive blew him to pieces.

~*~

Morse covered his head as the man disappeared from sight in a plume of earth. The loud explosion brought a shower of dirt and rocks and the vague realization that he wasn’t safe here. He pushed up on wobbling arms while the world tilted around him, his eyes clenched tight against a wave of nausea.

After a moment he was able to look around and made out DCI Thursday, Jim Strange and the new man as they crested the berm at the field’s edge. He should join them he thought blearily as he climbed to his feet.

Thursday and Strange were shouting something at him but it was all a jumbled stream of sound. He needed to move closer to understand. He took a tentative step swaying in the midst of a hundred land mines.

The young man standing with them said nothing, pausing only for a second before suddenly running toward him into the field.

~*~

“Fancy! No!” Thursday yelled taking a step forward as Sargent Strange pulled him back by the shoulder. They could only watch in dismay as the young man, who’d obviously been taking Morse’s mentoring to heart, foolishly risked his life. How long would he last following in Morse’s suicidal footsteps?

“It’s alright Guv!” The Detective Constable shouted over his shoulder. “This is the same patch I wandered into yesterday. I can get him out!” George Fancy sounded surer than he felt as he grabbed onto Morse’s arm to steady him.

“You’ll sit tight until a soldier can bring you in!” Thursday shouted back, then turned to Strange. “Damn fool kid.”

“Yes Sir,” Strange agreed staring at his coworkers. “The both of them.”

~*~

George leaned over to look into Morse’s face, “You alright Sir? Oh, you’re bleeding!” He pulled his handkerchief out and pressed it to the oozing wound.

Morse hissed and shoved Fancy’s hand away only to see the bloody cloth right in front of his eyes. A wave of nausea overcame him, and George watched as Morse’s usual freckled pallor shifted to a kind of ashen grey. Morse hunched over to retch as George scrambled to latch onto his shoulders. When Morse finished and abruptly stood back up George nearly lost hold of him as Morse’s momentum tilted him away, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Morse dizzily stumbled into George’s chest as the side of his face connected with George’s. Fuzzy afternoon stubble momentarily snagged them together before Morse’s head fell onto George’s shoulder, his nose ending up buried in George’s collar. The younger man quickly wrapped his arms around Morse’s back as he moaned, clutching at George’s jacket, trying to find something solid in his spinning world.

George’s heart contracted a little holding Morse so close. The man had a presence, a beauty that George had become intrigued by. If the circumstances were different this might be nice, he thought a little hysterically. He shivered as Morse’s hot breathe skimmed the side of his neck.

“Sir?” George croaked then cleared his throat. “I think if you can stay upright we can get out of here.” George watched as the mop of golden red hair rolled away from his neck, the normally sharp blue eyes staring blankly up at him.

“Yes, alright,” Morse blinked. “Uhm….”

“Fancy Sir.”

Morse blinked again, “You what?”

“George.”

“George. Oh… yes. Truelove’s George.”

George blushed at the thought that he was Truelove’s anything, but mostly he was just pleased that Morse had called him George. He looked toward Chief Inspector Thursday just as a group of soldiers arrived including one gearing up with the mine detector. Within moments the soldier set off toward them.

When he arrived, George moved Morse to his side and pulled his left arm over his shoulders. He wrapped his arm around Morse’s waist then latched onto the soldier’s back pack and began following him out of the field. Morse was shaky but doing alright as the two men focused down on each step until they neared the edge of the field. That’s when they both spotted the severed bloody hand in their path. Morse’s eyes went wide with shock at the gruesome sight and he instantly froze in his tracks jerking George and their guide to a halt.

All around them chunks of trouser clad flesh peaked from the tangled grass while several feet to their right the Professor’s shattered torso lay on its side. The dead eyes stared from his blood splattered face as if watching their progress, waiting to see if they were luckier than he.

An assortment of other pulped and broken bits of body lay closer to the corpse. Some of it was partially clothed while most lay naked and glistening in the bright sunlight. The tall grass all around was eerily covered in a fine pink mist, the tiny dots of moisture gathering to flow toward the tips of the drooping blades. Shimmering ruby-red droplets formed there and hung suspended until growing heavy enough to fall.

George immediately looked away from the gut churning sight of the former Dr. Laidlaw. He hadn’t noticed any of it when he’d raced into the field after his Sargent. “Sir? We need to keep moving,” he pleaded but Morse only trembled and shook his head trying to back away from George’s grasp.

“No, no, no…” Morse droned.

~*~

From the edge of the wood Thursday watched with his heart in his throat as the men stalled just out of reach of safety. He feared Morse might faint seeing so much blood. “George,” he called out, “cover his eyes and keep bloody moving!” Thursday winced. Not the best choice of words.

George looked at his DCI then at Morse then to the soldier in front of them who was looking back over his shoulder. “Just talk to him, get him to look at you and keep him close. We can’t stay here any longer.”

George nodded at the terse advice and looked back at Morse’s sweat covered face. “Sir? Sir! Morse!” He placed his hand on Morse’s cheek trying to turn his face away from the horror in front of them. Morse was breathing erratically, and George wasn’t sure how long the man’s buckling knees were going to hold up. He had to act fast. On instinct he reached back and quickly slapped Morse hard across the cheek.

Morse’s shocked face whipped toward him, “What the…?” George grabbed hold of his chin.

“Sir! We need to move! Now! No, don’t look away, keep your eyes on me.”

When Morse’s eyes locked with his he released his chin and grabbed the Soldier’s pack in front of them, nodding to get going. Morse looked at George for a few unsteady steps but soon his eyes were drifting back to the carnage at their feet. “No Sir, don’t look. Just close your eyes.”

“No, I need to….”

“Just do it! I’ve got you, I do! Just keep moving!”

Morse did as he was told clinging to the younger man’s jacket with both fists as they moved forward. He couldn’t see but he could still smell the warming remains while his mind’s eye flashed the details it had already captured: The blood pooled where the man’s legs used to be, the trail of intestines flowing away from his middle, the doctor’s shocked, wide eyes. Morse choked and grit his teeth over the scream caught in his throat.

Several agonizing moments later they reached the edge of the field.

Thursday rushed forward to pull Morse away while Strange grabbed George by the arm, both men yelling at their subordinates in unison with angry relief.

“Morse, what the hell were you thinking? You can’t just…” Thursday rumbled on as he looked over his bag man for other injuries.

“Fancy, if you ever do something that stupid again…” Strange bellowed, nearly drowning out Thursday, as he dragged George away from the field.

The reprimands wrapped up quickly enough with the overarching messages being: We’re angry, never do that again and we’re glad you’re not dead. Soon after the pair were dismissed to the shade of the quiet woods to recover.

~*~

After a short walk the two men collapsed onto a mossy patch under a large elm, George sprawled out with his back against the tree while Morse sat close by leaning forward over his bent knees. George hugged himself as the chill of delayed shock set in while he watched Morse curl up tighter, laying his forehead on crossed arms.

George worriedly watched over his boss who was still trembling in shock and probably suffering from a concussion. He felt horrible about shouting at a senior officer not to mention slapping him! He’d not been reprimanded by Sargent Strange about that, but he wasn’t the person George was worried about. He’d come to appreciate Morse, to respect his dedication and amazing mind. He didn’t want this odd circumstance to color their relationship.

“Sir, about earlier, out there. I…I’m sorry for, uhm, being rude to you. I just didn’t know what to do.”

Morse remained curled up but after a moment raised his head and quietly sighed.

“S’alright George,” Morse rasped then dropped his head again.

“And are _you_ alright?” George asked tentatively.

Morse rolled his forehead on his arms and sniffled.

“Sir?”

“Yes,” came a muffled reply. “Of course.”

The two men sat in silence grappling with their thoughts.

“I’ve never seen anything like that before.” George mumbled. “Not sure if I can ever look at steak & kidney pie the same way again.”

Morse looked up with a flash of anger. “I don’t appreciate the humor Constable,” he ground out. “A man has died after all.” Morse ran his fingers back through his hair, wincing at the pain in his left temple.

“Oh, yes. Of course. I didn’t mean anything.” It seemed odd to mourn a murderer. “Are… are you feeling any better?”

Morse wrapped his arms around his ribs and stared into the woods. “He knew,” Morse said softly, “for just a second. The look on his face…as he stepped on the…mine. He realized that I…I’d done that.” Morse reached up to cover his eyes. “That I’d killed him.” He grimaced in pain at the admission as tears ran down his face and stained his lapels.

George couldn’t understand Morse’s thinking. “But Sir, the man was insane, a killer. He would have shot you dead without a thought. He tried to!” George leaned forward laying his hand on Morse’s shoulder. “You had to think on your feet and amazingly thought to run into that field. And you calculated it just right. If he hadn’t stepped where he had, we wouldn’t be talking right now.” He squeezed Morse’s shoulder then let go.

Morse nodded and swiped at his wet eyes finally managing softly, brokenly, “Still, it was a life.”

George watched his Sargent for a few moments wondering at such a tender soul being a copper. He felt bad for the doctor dying but weighing the options he thought deadly force was sometimes called for, even in this oddly indirect way. It was only logical, but it didn’t make it palatable.   It would take quite a while for him to get over what he’d seen today but, he thought sadly, how long would it take Morse?

“Sir, you look knackered. Why don’t you lie down for a bit until they need us again?”

Morse had been staring at his knees, his eyes drifting shut every few seconds and the sight reminded George of his kid brother fighting off a nap.

“Mm fine,” Morse murmured.

“C’mon Sir.” George reached out and caught Morse’s arm. It didn’t take much effort to gently topple Morse onto his right side, his eyes closing and sleep taking him before his head landed on George’s thigh. He smiled at the sight of his superior in such a position, but in the end, he couldn’t really mind supporting a man like Morse.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback or suggestions would be lovely. Thanks!


End file.
